The Prince and Me
by Arialene
Summary: Modern AU. Elsa is an American college student studying at the University of Minnesota, and doing her best to care for her sister and grandfather. They don't have much, but they do the best with what they have. Enter Jack, a rather petulant Crown Prince attempting to escape some responsibilities with trying to study a semester abroad. Has this Prince met finally met his match?


So, many of you may have seen the little teaser that I posted not too terribly long ago on Tumblr and Instagram of the movie poster that was made up by the AMAZING Kuro-D (thanks again love). This story, as you might have guessed, is going to be just as that poster describes, the opposite of most stories thus far; Elsa as the commoner and Jack as the royal.

Now, I will be very quick to point out that Iceland does NOT have a monarchy in real life, that is something that I have made up for the sake of the story. In our real world, Iceland separated from Denmark's control after WWII and created a Republic, which it still is today. The only monarchy that Iceland has ever had, has been those of Norway and Denmark. I will try to impart some historical knowledge in this fic that I have gleaned from Icelandic history, though if I am incorrect on anything, please, please, PLEASE correct me.

Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Pine Island, MN (1 hour southeast of Minneapolis)

October

7am

Elsa Rindahl stood at the stove, moving a spatula carefully between the three frying pans that were ahead of her; bacon, potatoes and eggs crackled and cooked as she watched them carefully to keep them from burning. The toaster beside her popped, two pieces of dark toast hopping up cheerfully in the metal container.

Her blonde hair was pulled up into a high tail, her hair swaying back and forth as she worked. She wore low slung blue jeans and a plain purple cotton shirt, with a slight 'V' neck and elbow length sleeves.

She turned, setting the large utensil down and pulled the pieces of bread out and picked up a knife to smear soft butter from a small mason jar.

The Weather Channel was playing loudly on old analog television that sat in the living room, the screen visible from the outdated kitchen and formica covered table that sat perfectly positioned to view everything.

An old man sat at the table, a mug of black coffee nestled between his gnarled hands as he watched the morning show broadcast. A carefully folded newspaper was next to his right hand with a pencil threaded between his fingers; the daily crossword puzzle was half completed on the page.

"Looks like it's going to be a nice day today Elsie," he said, turning to smile at her. "Good day to play golf."

She smiled back, reaching forward to turn off the burners and began to plate up the food onto three plates.

"You say it's a good day to play golf when they are forecasting snow to be coming down an inch an hour."

He chuckled. "The elements can just make it more challenging is all. They make colored balls now after all, why else than to play in the snow?"

She rolled her eyes, placing a slice of toast on a plate and carrying it over to the table to slide it in front of him as he moved his mug of coffee out of the way. She stood next to him for a moment, looking down at the paper before moving her finger across a blank line.

"27 across is steeplechase," she said, turning back around to pick up the other plates, setting them on the table on either side of her grandfather and returning again to the kitchen area.

"Elsa, have you seen my statistics notebook?" a female voice sounded.

A red-headed woman came into the dining area, pulling a deep cut black shirt over a white camisole as she looked around frantically. She wore jeans as well, and had multi-colored enamel jewelry decorating her wrists, neck and earlobes. A frown marred her freckled features as she looked around the couches and end tables for the notebook.

"I looked all over my room for it and I couldn't find it."

Elsa held up the red notebook, with her sister's fluid hand writing with the word "Statistics" written in black marker over the face and the class information under it in smaller lettering.

"I found it in the freezer this morning," Elsa said, raising a brow at her sister, sliding the notebook onto the table before sliding into a seat. "I can only imagine how you left it in there Anna."

Anna giggled. "Morning Pabbie. I wanted ice cream last night while I was studying, I must have left it in there."

"Ah," Elsa said, inclining her head before picking up her fork to begin eating.

It was just the three of them. Elsa, Anna and their grandfather, Rikhard; he was known by most of the town as Pabbie though. Their grandmother had passed away when the girls were young, and then their parents had been killed in a car accident several years earlier in a car accident on a particularly brutal winter night; they had hit a rather nasty patch of black ice and lost control.

Rikhard had decided to put the money they had received from their life insurance policies and selling their parent's house into separate savings accounts that were now being used for the girl's college tuition.

They lived together in the small retirement home that Rikhard and Ida had bought after their children were moved out and grown, so the house was small and cozy; neither of the girls complained about the sometimes cramped quarters, knowing he was giving them all he could. They may not have high tech flat screen TVs or fancy cars, but they had everything they needed, which was what was ultimately important.

They rented their textbooks and waited for movies to come out onto HBO rather than going to see them in the theater; the couple dollars more a month for the premium channel was much more affordable than the pricey movie tickets, and they were able to put on the subtitles for Pabbie.

"Mmm," Elsa said, after several minutes of everyone eating silently. She gestured with her fork as she finished her bite.

"It's market day today, so make sure you're back from the golf course in time for us to get over there before all the good stuff is picked over."

Pabbie chuckled, nodding.

"Of course Elsa," he said, picking up his cup to take a drink. "You run a tight ship around here."

"Somebody has to," she replied wryly, smiling as she worked to finish her breakfast.

She was up at six every morning, double checking her homework for her classes that day and getting ready for school before heading downstairs to fix breakfast. She wanted to help her grandfather as much as she could with everything around the house. She did her best to keep Anna organized and on top of her classes.

She pushed back from the table, picking up her empty plate.

"You almost ready Anna?" she asked. "I need to meet with my advisor before my 10 am class for Spring classes."

Anna groaned. "I haven't even thought about Spring classes, I'm still preparing for midterms."

Elsa grinned. "You can do it. Dr. Bond won't let you fail Stats, I told you to take her for a reason," she said. "Now come on, let's get going."

"I'll see you both this afternoon," Pabbie said, toasting them both with his coffee mug as he turned his attention back to his crossword puzzle and The Weather Channel.

The girls headed out the back door of the house, the screen door creaking loudly on old rusted hinges before slamming hard back into it's place against the doorframe. They climbed into the old Buick LeSabre that they shared, tossing their backpacks behind them into the backseat before settling onto the long bucket seat the twenty year old car sported.

It had been their grandmother's car, fancy and well-equipped in its day but still reliable even now. Elsa worked the key into the ignition, bending to the side to work the stubborn piece of metal inside before the car roared to life as Anna shuffled through their collection of self made mixed audio tapes; not even a CD player in the car let alone a MP3 player.

Every so often they would order more tapes from Amazon, wondering what the people packing their order must think, and begin the process of transferring music from computer to CD to tape to listen to on their hour long commute into Minneapolis for school.

"What do you think?" Anna said, holding up two tapes with tiny stickers and glitter glue pen markings on them. ""Rock My World" or "Nothing But The Best"?"

Elsa turned around, navigating the car out of the small driveway and onto the street.

""Rock My World"," she said. "Let's start the day off right."

"All right," Anna said, thumbing the tape into the tapedeck, grinning as the music began to play; it was always a mystery which song would be first. "_Shinedown_, good one to start on!"

They smiled, settling in with the windows rolled down to let in the autumn air as they drove north for the big city.

* * *

Iceland

Palace of Icelandic Monarchy

Noon

A small man, with sand-colored blonde hair and dressed in a very finely tailored suit knocked on the tall, intricately carved wooden doors three times before opening the equally fancy door knob to reveal a large and spacious, but very dark bedchamber. The man had a dark garment bag draped over one arm as he expertly guided his way through the darkened room, seeming to know where everything was despite the lack of light.

Several quiet moments passed, punctuated only by the sound of one loud snore from somewhere in the depths of the large room. Light exploded throughout the room a second later as the man that had entered the room flung open the large, heavy blackout drapes that covered the huge windows that stood proudly along one long wall.

A loud, disgruntled groan emanated from the gigantic king-sized four poster bed that dominated a large portion of the room; a figure moved under several layers of bedclothes, causing empty soda cans to clatter out to the hardwood floor. The man turned from the window to raise an eyebrow at the bed.

"Your highness, it is time to get up," he said, walking towards the bed and bending to pick up the soda cans in his free hand.

"Sandri, I told you not to wake me up before you had to," came a muffled and annoyed male voice.

A smile pulled at the edge's of Sandri's mouth.

"Unfortunately sire, the world has waited long enough for you to rise and you have a twelve-thirty meeting with your grandfather," Sandri said. "And please, with all due respect, please take a shower. I'm not sure my nose can take the assault much longer."

Another disgruntled groan came from the bed and more movement, a bright blonde bedraggled head emerging from the dark covers as Jakop (known as Jack to his family and few friends), the Crown Prince of Iceland, sat up from his bed.

He squinted at the analog clock on the bedside table.

"Are you sure it's that late?" he asked, rubbing at his face as he yawned widely.

"I am fairly certain I can read a clock, sire," Sandri replied, stepping forward to hang the garment back on one of the rungs of the poster bed and unzipping it. "And, unless something drastic has changed in the world to change time, and I will admit I haven't seen any Blue Police Boxes and Alien men called themselves "The Doctor," yes. It is nearly noon."

Jack groaned, moving the duvet off his lap and standing up.

"Do you always have to wake me up by letting in the blinding ball of fire that is the sun RIGHT into my eyes? It's too hard on my eyes," he said, shuffling across the room to the attached bathroom suite; he was naked.

"My apologies sire," Sandri called. "I shall add mastering the movements of the sun to my regular duties of picking up dry cleaning, chauffeuring, and keeping a wayward Crown Prince in some general resemblance of order. I believe you will need to call me Aries now though."

Jack didn't answer.

Sandri began to move about the room, picking up items of trash and setting the room to rights as the sound of running water emanated from the next room. He moved to the rows of windows, moving swiftly to open them and allowing cool, sweet fall air to flow through the room, replacing fresh air with stale.

The water stopped, and Jack reappeared in the room, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist.

"So what does the old man want?" he asked, padding over to a large chest of drawers and removing a white t-shirt and a pair of boxer-briefs.

"I'm afraid I was not privy to that conversation sire," Sandri replied, tossing more trash into the wastebin.

Jack snorted, pulling on the shirt. "Don't give me that bullshit, you're a bigger gossip than the maids around here."

"Alas, sire, I was merely told to arrange a meeting between you and his majesty," Sandri continued, walking back to the bed and pulling clothing from the garment bag. "Simply a mere pawn."

"Uh huh," Jack said, stepping into his underwear and walking over to him. "You're annoyed at me for something."

"I could never be annoyed with you sire," came the reply, as tailored suit pants were held out for Jack to put on.

Jack glowered at him, moving to step into the navy blue trousers before accepting the light blue dress shirt to pull on over the white shirt he already wore, quickly buttoning up the tiny buttons. He draped a silver patterned tie around his neck, moving his hands up around the heavily starched collar to settle it into place. He then moved the two lengths of silk fabric over each other, working to tie them into a singular knot, a frown slowly deepening more and more on his brow as he struggled with the tie.

Finally, he exhaled, looking up in exasperation.

"Sandri, can you tie this for me?"

Sandri glanced over, raising an eyebrow silently.

"I'm not good at these things!" Jack said, the lengths of the tie flopping down loosely on either side of his shirt.

Sandri sighed.

"Whatever my future sovereign commands," he said, stepping forward and picking up the sides of the tie, moving them quickly and folding them into the tie knot." I can speak 7 languages, know three forms of hand to hand combat for defensive protection, have two Masters degrees in Business Management and Finance but yes, sire, I shall most certainly tie your tie."

Jack crossed his arms, glared at him.

"Can we quit with the sass please? I've not even been up for half an hour and you're on full blast already. Christ, I just needed help with the damn tie."

"Very good sire," Sandri replied, turning to pull the matching suit jacket from the bag and holding it out for Jack to put his arms into.

Jack turned, moving his arms for Sandri to slide the jacket up onto his shoulders.

"Why do I even keep you around?" he muttered.

"Because I'm the only one that is able to keep you sorted and manage you, sire," came the quick reply. "Now then, off we go or we will be late for your meeting, and you know how his majesty is with tardiness, especially YOUR tardiness."

"Yeah, don't remind me."

They moved in unison for the door, Sandri taking two large steps ahead of Jack to open the door and stepping out into the hall.

"What else do I have this week?" Jack asked, both of them falling into step next to each other as they walked through the marble hallways.

Sandri reached into a pocket, pulling out a large mobile phone and removed the stylus from the lower part of the phone and opened up the calendar.

"Your mother has requested you to accompany her to an art gallery event on Thursday, and Lady Breit has sent several messages wanting to spend time with you at your earliest convenience."

Jack snorted. "Lady Breit. You better not let her catch you saying that, she'll give you an earful."

"I'd rather her give me an earful than his majesty give me one for not saying it."

"Touche," Jack responded, both of them turning to mount a flight of stairs.

"And you have a speech to Parliament next week, you have a meeting with your speech writer on Saturday afternoon to review and make any needed changes."

"Saturday? Really?"

"I'm afraid so sire," Sandri replied, stopping before a closed set of doors and turning to adjust Jack's collar and tie.

"Ready sire?"

Jack shrugged. "As I will ever be."

Sandri nodded, turning and opening both of the doors with a flourish.

"His Royal Highness, Prince Jakop," Sandri announced, bowing deeply.

Jack walked past him with his head held high, his hands clasped behind his back, and into the room.

An older, white haired man sat behind a huge, dark wood desk with a small, Asian woman in a doctor's coat stood next to him holding a stethoscope to his chest. He moved a hand sharply and she stepped back, bending to pick up a small bag at her feet.

"That will be all, Dr. Banyaga," he said crisply.

She bowed. "Of course your majesty. I'd like to ask you to come see me later this week, just to be on the safe side?"

He gave a single nod. "I shall try to make time. As I said before, I'm certain it was nothing."

She smiled at him. "Possibly sire, but let's not worry her majesty any more than we have to."

He gave the faintest of smiles. "As I said, I shall try to make time."

Dr. Banyaga bowed again. "Very good your majesty."

She turned and took several brisk steps towards the door, pausing to bow at Jack.

"Your highness," she said, winking up at him.

"Hey Lani," he said, smiling at her.

She turned to Sandri. "Would you care to escort me to the dining hall for lunch? I find myself rather hungry."

Sandri smiled, darting a quick glance up to Jack before offering her his arm. "It would be my pleasure, Lelani."

A cold chill ran through Jack's spine, that did not bode well for a quick meeting like he was hoping.

He turned back to face the older man at the desk as the doors clicked closed behind him.

"How can I help you today, Njörđur?"

He looked up from a document that he was writing, a scowl on his face; that was nothing new.

"It's time that you stopped moping about the palace and starting learning what you need to learn. I'm not getting any younger afterall, and sooner than we would both like you're going to be King. And if you don't start preparing now, you're going to be completely UNprepared for the throne. And then where will the kingdom be?"

Njörđur gave a harsh laugh.

"Your father's death was hard on me too, and certainly unexpected, but life moves on boy, and we must too. It's high time that you realized that and start accepting your responsibilities."

Jack clenched his hands in his lap, carefully crossing his legs to hide his anger. No, this wasn't going to be a very short meeting at all. And Sandri DID know exactly what it was going to be about, and also knew that Jack would have refused to come if he had known.

It had been eight months since Jack's father, Brynjar, the original Crown Prince of Iceland, had died. Pancreatic Cancer. Very quick, very painful, very sudden, and very untreatable. They'd brought in the best of the best from all around the world and it hadn't mattered at all. The disease hadn't cared that Brynjar had responsibilities, and people that needed him, it had claimed him all the same.

Jack had been very close to his father, and the loss, especially how quickly it had been, had been especially hard on him. And because of it, Jack had gone from sitting in a distant second in line for the throne, to a very close first.

Njörđur, Jack's grandfather and Brynjar's father, had barely blinked at the loss it had seemed, moving from his son's death to trying to groom Jack to take over the throne with barely even a moment spared for grief. Jack had lost a lot of respect for the old King during the last months.

He sighed now, leaning forward to pull off his suit jacket before settling back to try to listen to Njörđur drone on about International policy and royal procedure and everything that he had set up for the monarchy. So much for an easy day.

"Alright then," Jack said, crossing his arms. "What are you going to tell me about today then?"

He said this, knowing that his grandfather wouldn't find his way of trying to learn something up to his own acceptable standards, they would quarrel, and Jack would be cast out of his office. It was what had happened every week for the last 12 weeks, why start a new routine now?

'Same shit, different day,' Jack thought to himself, wishing for the umpeenth time that he could be anywhere but where he was.


End file.
